Beneath the Surface
by Romanoma
Summary: Ciel contemplates how much he can trust his friends and his demon butler, oblivious to the warmth of quiet affections.


**Beneath the Surface**

On walls crisp silver in the moonlight stretched the shadow of Earl Ciel Phantomhive, nightshirt child-white to compliment ghostly protruding pale legs. Red lips wilting like winter roses, he pressed his palms to the icy windowpane of his bedroom, a long autumn night seeping into the grounds of the estate. His legs ached from hours on his feet, his dearest aunt's funeral playing on his mind. His loyal butler Sebastian had put him to bed, waiting patiently until his master's breathing evened out, until he looked like the naive little boy caught in a world fraught with secrets and lies, ravaged by anger and hatred and the desire for revenge. Ciel hadn't felt vindicated by Madam Red's death. In all truth, he missed her, and despite her reasons for despising him he couldn't bring himself to return that hate. Sebastian was unnerved by it, expecting a flare of anger that would fuel him for days but there had only been calm acceptance that a person he had trusted had betrayed him the way they always did. All he could tell himself was that he should have expected it.

"I will see through it next time," he promised himself, fingers curling against the glass. Stars exploded white when he let his head fall forward to balance against the frame. His voice wavered with uncertainty. "I will not let this happen again. I will not let this happen again."

A fruitless expectation. There was no way he could have known what she was doing. There was no way of knowing how she _felt_. He was a child, regardless of the gun safely holstered to whatever accessory could be safely hidden under meticulously wound threads of exotic colours. He was no fool, but he was no adult either, faltering on the cusp of childhood and tinkering with adulthood, a dangerous, dark and merciless underworld that left him tainted with a lust for blood.

"Trouble sleeping, young master?" Sebastian murmured from an echoing corner, voice a gentle, calming husk like rustled leaves. When Ciel looked up, Sebastian's reflection stood behind his own, that pink-painted smile worthless and dirty. His eyes glittered bloody amusement. A silver tray was balanced on his right hand, decorative, all wisps of coils and hairline patterns. "Some hot chocolate perhaps, to settle you?"

"I am not a child," Ciel said tartly, glancing at reflected eyes. "Put some brandy in it."

As if he had expected it, Sebastian slid the brandy jug into view and pinched the handle between forefinger and thumb, splashing it into a steaming cup of hot chocolate. Ciel took it eagerly, dipping his finger into the froth floating on top to get at smooth sprinkles, sucking them into his mouth. He waved his hand dismissively then, Sebastian stepping backwards to bow. Yet, he didn't leave his side, fingers flexing at his side as if itching to use them. "What? What is it?" Ciel snapped, in no mood to be bothered.

"You are troubled," Sebastian stated, Ciel noticing the silver tray had gone. "It is my duty as your butler to put your mind at ease."

"My mind is well at ease, Sebastian," Ciel replied, eyes snapping to the figure sneaking between well-groomed statues telling the stories of centuries. "I do not require you for anything tonight."

Still Sebastian remained, Ciel turning to look at him. His predatory grin had gone, replaced by the wistful visage achieved by wisdom and knowledge, an infuriating sort of look for those young and naive, even those well-versed in the ways of demons. Casting his eyes around the room, Ciel briefly wondered where that tray might have gone. Veils of purple hung around his bed like silk wine, gold feathers threaded into luscious pillows sunken with the head of a child noble. The sheets were upset, evidence of tangled legs and a thrashing body.

"I am tired, Sebastian," Ciel said softly, placing his mug upon the window ledge. The slightest twitter of dozing birds drifted across grounds fading to sleep for the coming winter, dying leaves falling red and orange sparks. Even though the mansion stood in all its false beauty, at least the grounds retained their natural, earthliness, ivy seeping into stone walls to smother and comfort.

"I know, young master."

"I want this to end."

"I know, young master."

"It will end."

"Yes, young master."

Ciel turned a calculative gaze upon his butler, trying to decide if Sebastian was merely humouring him. He was a demon after all, what did he care for the feelings of his prize. But when he leaned down, breath like hot, summer nights, and whispered, "I promised. I never go back on a promise. And promises made to vengeful human boys are quite my favourite," Ciel felt the slither of blood in his cheeks. Swallowing quietly, stoic English blood enforced pride and dignity, fighting the urge to be embarrassed. He licked his lips of distant chocolate, fists clenching. "Why didn't you know? Why didn't you know about her? And the butler. You disappoint me, Sebastian."

"What makes you think I did not know?" Sebastian answered. He barely flinched when Ciel slapped him, striding from between him and the window to stand with his back to him in the centre of the room. His feet sank into a wildly intricately patterned rug from some far off country. He shuddered. When he turned, Sebastian looked blasé, bored even. "I know a lot, young master. More than you can possibly imagine. But I do not know everything, otherwise I could tell you who it is you so hanker to find."

Ciel exhaled noisily. He knew that. "Bring me my mug," he ordered, Sebastian wrapping his master's fingers around it a moment later, helping him to lift it to his lips and sip. He helped him into bed next, smoothing the sheets around a thin waist and fluffing pillows so Ciel could relax amongst them. He reached for the soft, black patch hanging on a jewellery stand on the bedside table, holding it beside candlelight for a moment and whispering, "Others will betray me."

Sebastian stood dog-loyal beside the bed, needle straight. "Anyone is capable of betrayal, young master," he said matter-of-factly. "Next time, you will know."

Ciel hummed, sipping from his mug again. He swept foam from his lips, sinking back against the pillows. There was no one to trust except for Sebastian and even that relationship was tenuous. "Sebastian?" he said tentatively, staring at pale fingers curled around white china. "Who is there to rely on?"

Sebastian's smile was liquid fire. "Every member of this household you can rely on, young master," he said, Ciel looking up at him with miserable longing. "Bard, Finny, Meirin, Tanaka. Me."

Ciel's lips twitched with restrained glee. "You?" he whispered, seeming more like a child than he had in a long time, eyes dancing like mischievous fairies. He rested his mug on the bone of his bent knee, pursing his lips. "Sebastian Michaelis, butler, demon. Trustworthy? Because you promise to be or because you have to be?"

Sebastian said nothing, Ciel barking with mirthless laughter. He held the mug out for him to take, closing his eyes when it was lifted from his grip. "I will sleep now," he said, shimmying beneath warm sheets. "Wake me at six, we have things to see to."

Sebastian bowed, though Ciel didn't see it. Exhausted, their short talk had almost coaxed sleep from him and when he finally drifted free from the constraints of waking life, Sebastian pulled the sheets up to his chin. His smile was like slow sunsets, warm, calming, beautiful. He pressed a fond kiss to a cool, pale temple, long and nimble fingers smoothing back trim, dark hair and in a voice only meant for the dead, he whispered, "Because I promise to be, young master."


End file.
